


with patience blessed

by whiplash



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Canonical Child Abuse, Codependency, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplash/pseuds/whiplash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah was born into a family in mourning. This story explores that further. </p>
<p>Also heavily features Klaus and his relationship with baby Hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with patience blessed

“You’re good with her,” Camille says, not surprised as much as contemplative. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing a flimsy summer dress and a fond smile as she looks down at them. Hope, wiggling and squirming to avoid Klaus’ attempts to clean mashed banana face off her face, laughs back at her.

“You must have had a good role model,” Camilla adds, snorting with laughter instead of offering to help. In retaliation Klaus throws a used wipe at her. “Someone who taught you how to be kind and patient… Well, with children at least.” 

Well, hardly children in general. Klaus has no patience for other people’s progeny. He’ll eat them or leave them, depending on his mood. But it’s been a good day – he’s spending the morning with two of his favorite people, he’s not fighting with any of his siblings and, for once, no one’s out to hurt him or those who belong to him – so he doesn’t correct her. 

And yeah, of course he’s had a good role model. One might even say a noble one. Only with the memories of that Elijah – his childhood hero with the kind voice, gentle hands and steady patience – comes also those of Mikael. Even in the sweetest of recollection he looms in the background, a feared constant threatening violence and humiliation. So Klaus doesn’t tell her that either. 

Instead he just picks up his daughter and kisses her messy face. 

xxx 

A few weeks later Hope becomes sick, some childhood menace which leaves her covered in red blisters and burning with fever. Her beautiful face turns into a wet and twisted mask and her hair’s damp and sticking up at all angles. Over and over again she toddles up to him, screaming herself blue in the face and raising her arms in a demand to be held. When he tries she screams even harder though, fat tears splattering against the ground. And, knowing that she’s crying because his touch caused her pain, Klaus wants to scream too. 

He can’t help her. Can’t make her pain go away. Can’t put a smile back on her face. That knowledge fucks with his mind and he stomps around the house like a caged animal. He envies Hayley, away in the swamps to deal with her pack of mangy dogs while Klaus has his heart ripped out of his chest. And he hates his brother too who, juggling dirty diapers, juice boxes and paracetamol, acts as if he's actually equipped to handle the situation. 

“Have you spent the last few decades moonlighting for a nanny service?” Klaus finally demands as Elijah kneels down on the floor to let Hope pound at him with chubby, frustrated hands. There’re damp spots of snot and tears on his ridiculous five hundred dollar shirt and the cooling cream that he’s just smeared over Hope’s arms has left a shimmering residue on his fingers. Yet Hope has all his focus, a formidable thing in its own fashion. Or so people had claimed over the centuries. 

And yes, Klaus "hates" him but at the same time Elijah’s the only one managing to offer Hope any comfort. So Klaus brings him a damp washcloth, acknowledging Elijah’s grateful look with a tight smile. Then he watches his brother clean his hands, absolutely meticulous in his task. It’s a familiar thing not just for Elijah but Klaus as well, settling something in him that Hope’s tears has rattled loose. 

This is when he remembers the conversation with Camille and curiosity stirs within him. 

“Tell me, brother," he says,"how did you learn to be so good to screaming little beasties? So... _kind_." 

Elijah, still cleaning his hands, doesn’t look startled at the question. A lifetime’s long enough to learn your big brother’s tells though – or at least so Klaus imagines – and by now they’ve spent nearly a dozen lifetimes together. As such the long pause before Elijah replies does quite enough to betray his surprise. 

“You, of all people, must know that I’m far from kind,” he eventually points out with a voice tinged with shame. 

Klaus shrugs. It’s that red door nonsense again. As if Klaus actually cares about the body count that Elijah has racked up over the centuries. 

“You are to her,” he points out, gesturing to Hope. “You were to me. And Rebekah, and Henrik. Even Kol and, let’s be honest here, he was a terrible little shit. Who taught you to be such a good big brother? Because somehow I don’t imagine Finn was much of a role model.” 

That’s not just a dig at their eldest brother. He truly can’t imagine it. To Klaus’ recollection Finn had never shown any interest in his siblings while they were still human. In fact, he had barely spoken to them other than to scold them or pass on orders from Esther or Mikael. He would never have comforted them if they skinned their knees or shown them how to skip stones over water. 

A small sigh draws his attention. Glancing down he realizes that Hope has fallen asleep, curled up on the cold stone tiles like a dog. As even the softest of her dresses hurts her skin she’s naked except for the fat diaper and she looks like a damned urchin. Klaus desperately wants to snatch her up and tuck her into her bed in the warm nursery. 

So lost is he in his thoughts that he all but misses his brother’s reply. 

“What?” he says, frowning because he must have misheard. Either that or Elijah’s mocking him. 

“You did,” Elijah says again. “You taught me kindness, Niklaus. Kindness and patience.” 

Then his phone chimes and he disappears, no doubt about to give Hayley an update about her daughter. 

xxx 

“I taught you kindness,” Klaus later repeats, sliding a glass of scotch across the table towards his brother. 

Hayley’s back, showering Hope with guilty attention. The two of them have fallen asleep in a guest bedroom now, curled around each other with matching wet faces. The house has fallen as quiet as it ever gets, old wood creaking and human hearts beating. Noise filters in from outside, fragments of the constant reveling. 

Elijah accepts the glass, turning towards Klaus in a gesture that’s close to welcoming. 

“You,” he agrees. “But also Mikael. One might call it a group effort.” 

He sounds amused, perhaps at the notion of the two of them ever working together. The very mention of the man chases away the sense of peace from Klaus’ mind though. 

“I have to warn you,” he snaps, “I’ve come to grudgingly tolerate a certain amount of paternal worship in Freya. In you, however, I’d find it much less palatable.” 

“Oh,” Elijah says, flashing him a humorless smile, “there’s no need to concern yourself on that account. Father will not be cast as the hero of this story. That role, Niklaus, belongs to you.” 

So Klaus settles down to listen, intrigued despite himself. His brother tells a good story. They all do, truly. He imagines it has a lot to do with growing up in a time before moving pictures, or even the first printing presses. 

“As you’ve already so astutely established,” Elijah begins, “Finn had his… flaws. In his defense, at the time of my birth he’d just lost his sister and playmate. I imagine he considered me a poor substitute. In truth, I imagine they all did. A squealing infant in the place of a happy and delightful toddler. You have to agree, it does make for a poor bargain.” 

“They loved you,” Klaus protests. “You were the good son. The perfect son.” 

If the words come out bitter then he can’t help it. A thousand years have done nothing to heal those particular wounds. And if Elijah intends to hold that against him, Klaus will be the first to call the pot a kettle. He’d seen the flash in his brother’s eyes just now and recognized it for the same kind of festering old pain. 

“With time, I suppose they did,” Elijah corrects. “I made myself useful and they came to see my worth.” 

He doesn’t sound bothered, which makes the matter even worse. 

“When mother grew round with child again, Finn didn’t care. But I did. Mother had told me that Freya used to sing to me and so I would do the same for you. And then you were born, furiously shrieking and protesting even back then. You were so fussy those first few months, Klaus, always on the verge of tears and never content unless you were held. You drove father out of the house and Finn into the woods. I didn’t mind though. I’d hold you when mother could not. You would pull my hair or chew on my fingers and eventually you would settle down and sleep.” 

At his brother’s words Klaus recalls Hayley handing him Hope. He remembers cradling her skull and memorizing the color of her eyes so that he would be able to recreate that exact shade of blue forever in his paintings. He’d torn his eyes away from her for a moment to glance at his siblings and he’d felt such joy. Such hope for the future, despite the bleak circumstances of their reunion. 

“Perhaps such selfishness could be mistaken for kindness,” Elijah says, his eyes drawn to something behind Klaus’ shoulder. All traces of amusement have vanished, replaced by something far grimmer. Of course, their past tended to have that effect on them. Klaus knows that all too intimately. This is the first time however that he’s entertained the notion that his brother’s past spanned back further than his own. 

“You were lonely and I gave you hope,” he realizes. “I made you feel needed. Your drug of choice.” 

“Perhaps,” comes the answer. “If so, I suppose you’re the one who offered me my first free sample.” 

“So noble Elijah was selfishly selfless,” Klaus continues, digging because he doesn’t know how to stop. And maybe because Elijah looks sad which he’s always hated unless he intentionally set out to upset his brother. “However fascinating, your little reminiscence still hasn't explained how you learned kindness. Or what role Mikael played in it.” 

“You grew into a toddler eager for my companionship. You wanted my attention and approval long before you began craving father’s. You brought me smooth rocks and squished flowers, you dragged me around to show me the wonders of the world as you saw it and, at night, you crept into my lap to share my food and warmth. I gave you a small token of time and attention and, over the years, you repaid me a thousand times over for it.” 

As much as he wants to, Klaus can’t remember that far back. No matter how he searches his mind he doesn’t come up with even the haziest image of life before Mikael had soured it all. But he’d seen Elijah with their other siblings. Had grinned as they used their bigger brother as a climbing frame and rolled his eyes as Elijah snuck them tender morsels of meat from his own bowl. It’s not hard to imagine the same with another child, a skinny boy with dirty blonde hair and fresh bruises layered on top of faded ones. 

“You make me sound like a puppy,” he accuses, his voice harsh and his hand clenching into a fist by his side. “Or a simpleton.” 

“Things were simple back then. Or, well, simpler at least.” 

“So I worshiped the ground that noble Elijah walked on," Klaus summarizes. "This story begins to bore me, brother. Please get to the end.” 

Elijah smiles then, reaching across the table to grab the bottle. He refills both their glasses, waiting until Klaus has taken a sip before continuing. 

“You were a sweet child but, then as now, also quick to anger. If I was ever unkind or impatient, if I made you unhappy, you would make a fuss.” 

He throws back his own drink, then gently places the glass back on the surface. 

“And then,” he says with the blankest of faces, “Mikael would come for you.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. Nor is there any need for him to do so. 

“So,” Elijah concludes, pushing to his feet, “as I said, a team effort. You taught me the value of kindness and patience. And father, the necessity.” 

After he leaves, Klaus finishes the bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome :)


End file.
